Do You Hear What I Hear?
by the author formerly known as
Summary: The Cullen kids... the term kids being used loosely here... learn the truth behind their childhood beliefs regarding a certain jolly old elf, and at the same time begin to see how good a 'monster' can really be. A Holiday fiction. WIP
1. Do You Hear What I Hear 1

**Do You Hear What I Hear?**

**One**

They had been out of the house for ten minutes when Edward decided that he missed his wife. He'd become distracted, moody. He had been thinking with a sigh only a few moments before that this might be a long weekend.

When Jasper, Emmett and Edward stopped to see Carlisle on their way to the new hunting range, he felt his spirits lift.

He still would rather be with Bella, but he couldn't help it. The atmosphere in the hospital was happy. The kids in the ward where they found their father were grinning and giggling, faces shining in the tiny, colourful lights that decorated the room. It was nighttime, and the Jolly Old Elf was making his rounds. He handed out candy canes, and tiny teddy bears to those who couldn't eat the sweets.

Edward felt his lips turning up, and he knew that his two brothers were doing the same thing next to him. They stood with their backs to the large windows at the end of the ward, watching the scene with a happy carelessness.

The mood changed abruptly.

"I met the real St. Nicholas, you know," Carlisle murmured quietly.

Edward shut his eyes tightly, wanting so desperately to cut himself off from his surroundings. He heard Jasper's thoughts become a jumble of curses, and heard Emmett offering some quick prayers to God—'Dear God I know I'm unfaithful, and I eat people sometimes but please please please please don't make me hear another one of these stories.'

"Really," Edward said noncommittally, not bothering to make it sound like a question, nor to feign any degree of interest. He knew that Carlisle would keep talking whether he thought anyone wanted him to. Edward opened his eyes and looked to his father, hoping to see some glimmer of sense in his face, but Carlisle's eyes were three hundred years away.

Three hundred years away with Santa Claus.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Carlisle had embarrassing parental moments, too. He was, after all, over three and a half centuries old. Though it was highly unlikely, Edward almost thought that Carlisle probably had walked uphill both ways to school. In the snow. It wasn't a claim the doctor had ever made, but Edward could picture it. Compared to all the other stories he'd heard, it actually seemed almost realistic.

* * *

"It was sometime in the really late 1600s," Carlisle sighed, tilting his head to the side.

_We need an escape plan!_ Emmett's mind squeaked at Edward, and Jasper pleaded, _Do something, Edward. You and Esme are the only ones who can reason with him when he's like this._

"St. Nicholas died a long, _long_ time ago," Edward reminded his father gently.

Carlisle only scoffed, and raised one perfect eyebrow.

"Technically," he told the three boys, who were all staring at him with expressions lost between incredulity and fear. "So did all of you."

There was silence, or at least as much as could be managed in a room full of happy children.

"I'm sorry," Emmett said. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

All three of them were frozen in place, and Edward was amazed that his older brother had managed to find his voice. Carlisle's words were thick with implications. Suddenly Edward felt like his childhood was much farther than 100 years away, like it had fallen away, never to be touched or remembered or reflected upon again.

Carlisle only shrugged and looked back to the smiling children who were seated on the floor on the other side of the room. His hard skin glowed strangely in the coloured lights.

"Well," he said, "How else did you think he got around the world so fast?"

And Santa, talking to the kids who giggled and laughed before them, seemed to reply, "HO HO HO!"


	2. Do You Hear What I Hear 2

**Do You Hear What I Hear?**

**Two**

Nick wasn't a fat man.

He was tall, obscenely so, and he had broad shoulders and was heavily muscled. To say the least, his stature was immense. Sheer size such as his own was terrifying in the plainest of mortals. Nick was huge, but he wasn't fat.

He wasn't a young man, either, but he was so handsome it was almost sinful, and his expression and demeanor seemed unaffected by the passing of time. Nick's unearthly pale skin, his teeth which were almost _too_ white, and his piercing eyes only added to the unease a person might have felt in his presence.

Of course, there was no real need for any human on earth to fear Nick; since his youth he had only ever wanted to help people. And that was– well, Nick could no longer remember when exactly that was. He was sure a history book could tell him the approximate date of his birth– maybe even the exact date. It could probably tell him, as well, the night that he died.

But Nick had never had any desire to look. His sole focus was on taking care of his own children and the children of the world. Nick only wanted to give, and it seemed to him that it could only be fate which had allowed him the opportunity to do so for all of eternity.


	3. Do You Hear What I Hear 3

**Do You Hear What I Hear?**

**Three**

The moonlight was glorious. It tumbled, pale and clear, from the sky to land upon the three figures in the empty parking lot, swathed in the cold air and the faint glowing. Clouds blew gently in front of the white face in the sky, eclipsing the three in blackest night.

"What's wrong, boys?" Carlisle asked good-naturedly, standing at the door of his sleek black Mercedes and peering through the darkness at his sons. The hospital's light wern't on at this time of night, not in the staff parking lot, but the winking lights of a nearby Christmas tree were, and Carlisle glowed a strange and unnerving red.

Emmett was stewing in the backseat of Edward's car, while Jasper and Edward stood awkwardly by, shuffling their feet. Jasper's hands were buried deep in his pockets, and his chin was dipped down onto his chest. Edward looked to the sky, sighing. His breath seemed to be that which blew the clouds away from the moon, but really it was an unseen, unheard wind, too high up to be felt by the people on earth below.

His eyes still focused upward, Edward ventured slowly, "Santa Claus... is a vampire."

Carlisle paused, his sharp eyes roaming the faces of the two men in front of him, who suddenly seemed so much like children.

"Nicholas is a great man," he told them, his voice clear and bright with the truth of his words.

Edward shrugged defensively, dropping his gaze to the side. With frustrated eyes, he turned his back on his father and got into his car, quickly starting the engine.

Jasper was motionless, staring at the ground. He looked up and his face bore the sadness not of one carrying the burden of a hundred years too many, but of one whose life was only recently begun; and whose innocence was lost only moments before. Without a word, he got into the car, and Edward immediately peeled from the parking lot, leaving Carlisle to stand in the winking red and green lights and wonder if he had made a mistake in telling them.


	4. Do You Hear What I Hear 4

**Do You Hear What I Hear?**

**Four**

_Sure is dark out _

_Ain't the slightest spark out _

_'Zat you, Santa Claus? _

The car glided smoothly across the pavement, and the only sound came from the radio. It was a gravelly voice that sang to them, and the black of the night mixed with the voice to create a dark ambience.

_Cold winds are howling  
__Or could that be growling?  
__My legs feel like straws  
__Are you bringing a present for me  
__Something pleasantly pleasant for me? _

Jasper shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

_Oh there, Santa, you gave me a scare  
__Now stop teasing  
__Cause I know you're there  
__We don't believe  
__In no goblins today _

Both he and Edward shuddered.

_I can't explain why I'm shaking that way  
__Bet I can see Ole Santa in the keyhole  
__I'll get to the cause _

Edward reached forward and snapped the volume off, and the three sat in silence.

They'd hunted without any thrill or chatter, going silently, awkwardly, through the motions of feeding.

"Do you think–? I mean."

Jasper didn't finish his sentence. Edward wasn't sure he had to.

"I think Carlisle's full of _shit_, is what I think," Edward snapped, angry at the world and angry at Jasper for reminding him why.

Emmett reclined on the back seat. He scratched his stomach for no other reason than to investigate a brown smear on his shirt.

"Who cares?" he muttered. "It's weird to think about at first, but on later reflection... Well, I don't give a damn what Santa Claus does in his spare time. If that includes being a member of the living undead..." Emmett shrugged.

"You are abominably _stupid_," Edward seethed at his brother. Emmett's view of the world was far too simple for him to respect. Sometimes he wanted to slap him and scream in his face that things weren't always black and white, but _gray_, damnit, and dark gray at that.

Emmett's gaze met Edward's in the rearview mirror. His eyelids were mostly shuttered, revealing only small strips of white.

"And you're a whiny bitch."

Edward sneered, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.

"Stop it, both of you," Jasper said wearily.

"Well, it's a stupid thing to get upset over," Emmett said under his breath.

"I do think that we have rather different backgrounds to be looking at this issue with." Jasper's tone was dry.

"What? I grew up liking Christmas, you guys grew up liking Christmas. Now, I still like Christmas, and you guys like Christmas. The only difference in background is Edward's a fucking drama queen."

Jasper sighed. "I meant– I meant more recently than growing up."

Emmett didn't say anything, but Edward saw in the mirror his incredulous gaze trained at the back of Jasper's head. He sighed in relief and felt his grip slacken. In Jasper's mind he saw that someone understood, at least. Emmett never had dealt with the issues that Jasper and Edward both did. In a way... Jasper was closer to Edward than anyone else in the family could be. Because he felt it, too, the horror that weighed Edward down as he walked, the guilt he felt just by existing. The world was darker, more dangerous because of him. Because of monstrosities like their family.

And apparently, like Santa Claus.


	5. Do You Hear What I Hear 5

"It's just like... you know all those stories, with the twist endings where it turns out Santa has been kidnapping children and making them into 'elves'?"

Edward stared at the ceiling, still and pale like a corpse. His eyes were haunted, and his shoulders curled inward as if hunched in a semi-permanent expression of fear.

"Uh huh," Bella responded, turning the page of her novel.

"It's like _that_, except it's true. Santa is a vampire."

"Hmm," she hummed, eyes skimming the page quickly.

"Don't you think... I mean, it's terrifying. Instead of his face being jolly and tinged with red, his _eyes_ are red. He– he's one of _us_."

"Well what's wrong with us?" Bella grumbled.

"Other than the insignificant little fact that we're monsters?"

"Speak for yourself, Edward," Bella said coolly, looking up from her novel for the first time. "_I'm _no monster."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Of course _you_ aren't, Bella... you're–"

Bella cut Edward off before he could finish, but her firm voice quickly trailed away.

"Do you even– I mean..." Bella sighed, putting her book aside and taking her husband's face in her hands, leaning forward so that she could feel his breath touching her lips like a warm summer wind. "Do you think, before you speak?"

Edward scowled. "Obviously."

"So why don't you realize how ridiculous you sound?"

"Bella–"

"No, Edward, listen to me. What's the difference between you and me?" Her lips quirked. "And Santa? I don't see how you can despair over his being one of us. You acknowledge that we aren't all monsters."

"You're perfect," Edward whispered, and Bella heard the _but_ in his tone.

She shook her head. "And you are a good man."

Edward looked away, her hands dragging against his cheeks. She shifted forward and buried her face in his neck.

"I wouldn't have married you if you weren't," she muttered, knowing she probably sounded annoyed. That was okay. Sometimes Edward's philosophical angst was worth getting a little annoyed over.

"Bella," Edward began in that world-weary, self hating tone of his.

"Shut up," she said into his skin, running her lips over his collar. "Now, let's pretend for a moment that you won't be spending the next few days mired in self-pity and abstract musings on the meaning of sin... I vote we find some mistletoe and make out."

"Hmm..." Edward reached around Bella and tightened his arms about her waist. "Maybe that's a good idea..."

"Of course it is."

Edward pulled away from Bella and moved in to kiss her.

"Ah ah–" Bella twisted away. "You can only kiss under the mistletoe at Christmas, Edward. After all, if you're naughty rather than nice, he'll know," she joked.

Edward's eyes darkened, and for a moment his face took on a look of abject horror. Perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say.

Bella sighed. Of all the people to bring her so much grief at Christmastime, why did it have to be Santa Claus?


End file.
